


Built and Broken

by fizzygingr



Category: Kamen Rider Build
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Finale, YABEI!!!! SO SOFT!, and they both know it, banjou ryuuga is a ride-or-die bitch, dare I say the softest, guilty kiryuu sento, protective banjou ryuuga, very soft boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-05
Updated: 2019-03-05
Packaged: 2019-11-12 04:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18003794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fizzygingr/pseuds/fizzygingr
Summary: Sento is plagued with nightmares. Banjou wants to fight them off.





	Built and Broken

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Incentive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17453633) by [cheesethesecond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheesethesecond/pseuds/cheesethesecond). 



> Cheese wrote a fic where Sento comforts Banjou after a nightmare, and I've been determined to write the reciprocal. I could never rival Cheese levels of Soft Melty Boy Fluff but I did my best.

Banjou isn’t sure at first what woke him up. The cold, maybe, or the traffic outside this crappy room they’ve been renting, or his own head; he was never all that good at sleeping through the night, even before. He stretches his toes out to the edge of the bed, giving a satisfied groan, then rolls onto his side to try again.

 

That’s when he hears the whimpering.

 

Sento is turned to the wall, knees curled tight against his chest, trembling almost imperceptibly. Almost. The idiot keeps trying to be unobtrusive, and Banjou kind of wants to roll his eyes, and kind of wants to punch him in his stupid face, but mostly just wants to hold him tight enough to squeeze all the hurt out of him.

 

“Hey.” He offers a whisper, trying not to startle him. “Hey. Sento.”

 

Sento stiffens at his name. “Go back to sleep.”

 

“Sento,” Banjou repeats, softly but a little more insistent. He reaches out to touch his shoulder, and feels Sento flinch away from him.

 

“That bad, huh?”

 

“I said go back to sleep.”

 

Banjou prickles despite himself. “Yeah, maybe I don’t want to.”

 

“Please,” says Sento, his voice tight. “Go to sleep, Banjou.”

 

“You go to sleep!”

 

“I’m not…” Sento sighs, and, exasperated, rolls over to face him.

 

Banjou stares at him in shock. Even in the dim light he can see that Sento’s face is pale and tear-streaked, aching and shattered.

 

He blinks. His voice comes out as a whisper. “Sento. What did you dream about?”

 

Sento twists up his face and sobs.

 

Banjou catches him, pulling him into his chest effortlessly, cupping a hand around the back of his head. Even as he does so, he feels his muscles tense with anger because none of this is right. Sento should never look like this, should never feel like this. He should never have been built for the purpose of being broken, should never have been made to carry the weight of everyone he couldn’t save. He should never have taken the world onto his shoulders— but then again, he wouldn’t be Sento if he didn’t. 

 

Tense and fierce and protective, he wraps his arms around Sento a little tighter, and lets him cry into his chest until the tears soak through shirt, until he finds himself shaking, too, shaking with grief and rage for the broken man who built them all up.

 

“Banjou,” says a muffled voice from his chest. “Ah--you’re hurting me.”

 

He takes a breath, forcing his arms to loosen. “Sorry.”

 

“You need to be more careful, Musclebrain,” Sento says, and the slight smile in his voice takes a load off Banjou’s chest.

 

“I didn’t realize you were so delicate,” he retorts.

 

Sento laughs weakly, lingering a moment longer in Banjou’s arms before shifting himself up so they’re lying face to face. Banjou reaches out to wipe a tear from Sento’s eye, and is relieved when Sento lets him. He runs a thumb beneath the other eye then, slowly, patiently, waiting for him to speak.

 

“In my dream...” he says after a moment, “In my dream I was Katsuragi. I was hurting our friends. I was hurting you.”

 

“That’s not real, Sento, not anymore. None of it ever happened.”

 

“Then how come I can still see their faces?”

 

Banjou can only nod, because he knows all too well what it is to be haunted by ghosts: Kasumi, fading away in his arms; children screaming in the street at the start of the war; Sento, crying out in pain for three damn days in a useless hospital; Sento beaten to a pulp again; Sento on the ground, eyes wide with the realization that he’d killed a man, and vomiting in the sink after Banjou took him home, and sitting on the edge of the bed, his only movement to shrug off the blanket Misora had laid over his shoulders...

 

Banjou shakes his head to stop his thoughts running wild, then takes either side of Sento’s face with increased urgency.

 

“So it happened,” he says. “So it’s real enough. But that’s not who you are anymore, okay? Because if that happened, then so did everything else, so did everything that makes you Sento.”

 

“That doesn’t make up for it.”

 

“Of course it does! Please, I can’t keep watching you...You undid the damage. You undid the war. Hell, you saved the world, Sento, isn’t that enough?”

 

“I...I don’t...”

 

“And you saved me.” 

 

And maybe it’s selfish, but Banjou hopes that might mean something more to him, more than the damage undone, more even than the world.

 

Sento kisses him, proving him right.

 

He smiles wide under Sento’s lips, relieved and proud and above all grateful for the privilege of being there for him.

 

Sento pulls away. “Stop smiling like that and actually kiss me back,” he says.

 

“Make me.”

 

“Tomorrow,” he says, settling his head against Banjou’s shoulder. It’s clear that exhaustion has taken him, and he himself feels drained as well; maybe they’ll both sleep till morning. “Tomorrow I’ll make sure you pay me back for it.”

 

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” says Banjou, wrapping an arm around him, glad to feel the steadying rise and fall of his chest.

 

“Thank you,” he says, his eyes closed, his face looking almost peaceful. “Thank you, Banjou.” It’s clear from the way he speaks that the teasing has stopped.

 

Banjou doesn’t think he’ll ever quite understand how he’s the one being thanked.

  
  



End file.
